


we move like the ocean

by noahfics



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 30 Days of Writing, M/M, Post-Canon, Relationship Study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 21:08:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 10,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11067177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noahfics/pseuds/noahfics
Summary: Sawamura Daichi loves Sugawara Koushi. This is not news to him, though perhaps he hadn't realized exactly how much before.





	1. things we carry

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first installment of my june drabble series, which i will write for and update daily!!  
> the drabbles are all connected and follow daisuga through their first year in college..! i hope you enjoy  
> title is from we move like the ocean by bad suns

Really, Daichi should have known all along that Sugawara had an ulterior motive when he offered to buy them both popsicles, but his post-practice exhausted haze makes him agree eagerly, not giving a second thought. He's overworked, and his breathing is still slightly heavy, so something cool is just what he needs.

As they exit Shimida Mart, his own popsicle drips yellow down the side of his hand, and he laps it up without a second thought. It’s newly summer. The cicadas hum all around them and clouds float lazily through the sky. In his peripheral, he notices Sugawara stifling a yawn.

“You worked hard today,” Sugawara observes, quiet. Neither of them mention the white elephant in the room; it had been their last team practice, more for fun than anything. Daichi had split his time evenly between talking to Ennoshita—which makes sense, granted that he’s their captain, now—and practicing  _ hard _ .

Sweat drips down the back of his neck, and he wipes it away carelessly, flicking it into the dirt path below them.

“It was nice,” he agrees. “And it was nice of you to buy us these. It’s so  _ hot _ ,” he says, groaning.

“It was?” Sugawara asks, the picture of innocence. Daichi knows he’s anything  _ but  _ innocent. They walk alongside each other, a small gap between them, and their popsicles drip on the dirt and on their shoes. “If you—wanted to carry me home, you know, I wouldn’t say no,” he continues, breaking into a crooked grin.

Daichi bridges said gap, a gentle shove of his own shoulder against Sugawara’s.   

“Suga,” he chastises, only teasing. “You mean to tell me that you buttered me up for a simple piggyback ride?”

“I—” Sugawara hesitates, glancing towards him. “Did it work?”

“It worked,” Daichi allows. Though Sugawara certainly wouldn’t have had to buy him popsicles or compliment him in order for him to oblige, he keeps that to himself. 

He crouches, holding both of their dripping popsicles in his hands, as Sugawara wraps his legs around his torso, reaching down for his own popsicle. It drips just in front of where Daichi walks, and he takes a momentary step backwards.

“This is good,” Sugawara sighs, resting his chin atop Daichi’s head. “Much less tiresome this way.”

“For one of us,” Daichi teases, though he continues onward dutifully. Sugawara keeps one arm draped over his chest, the other holding his now-finished popsicle. If Daichi is still, he can hear Sugawara's quiet, even breathing.

And, while this may be the last time they walk home from high school together, their lives are really only beginning, in more ways than one.


	2. an open door

“We deserve a celebration, Daichi,” Sugawara decides as he relaxes into their new couch, one of only three pieces of furniture assembled in their living space. 

“We’ll order food in,” Daichi decides. It’s justified—they’ve spent all of this morning and afternoon shuffling through their boxes to find essentials and putting furniture together. On one occasion, while Sugawara put together a wooden chair, he had threatened to move out (only joking, Daichi is pretty certain). So, to say they're spent is an understatement.

“Yes,  _ please _ ,” Sugawara agrees. His hair is pinned away from his forehead and he sports a neon pink band aid on his forearm. Their front door is still open on its hinge from the trips up and downstairs, and their neighbors chatter in the apartment beside them, dull hums through the metal door.

“You decide,” Daichi says, shrugging. He recalls the contents of their fridge: a bottle of wine that’s not expensive, per se, but out of their price range as eighteen year olds. Sugawara’s parents had given it to them as a housewarming gift. They haven't gone grocery shopping yet, so that's all that's in there. They might as well put it to use.

As Sugawara scrolls through his phone, occasionally suggesting ideas, Daichi rifles through boxes. Four turn up with nothing of use—mainly decorative items—but he pulls two wine glasses from the fifth, sporting a bright grin.

Sugawara decides that spicy mapo tofu is fitting enough for their first night in the apartment, which is of surprise to  _ nobody,  _ and though they don’t truly enjoy the wine, it’s enough to give Sugawara’s cheeks a rosy glow, and enough to allow a whole family of butterflies— _ plus _ the entire butterflies’ extended families—to make home in his chest.

“This sucks,” Daichi half teases. As he takes a particularly large sip, his nose scrunches.

“ _ You  _ suck,” Sugawara scolds, a light laugh of his own.

“You shouldn’t say that! I’ll have you know—”

There’s a light knock at their door, then, or their doorframe, since neither of them are willing to exert the effort to get up. And, rather than actually get up, Sugawara shifts to sit up on his knees and invite the delivery person in, beckoning with his right hand.

“You,” Daichi laughs, reaching for the container, “are  _ so  _ lazy.”

“Lazy, but you still chose to live with me,” Sugawara counters. He shoots a gaze in the general direction of their door, which, in the absence of the delivery person, still hangs open.

“I’m not closing that,” he says, decisive. “My legs are too wobbly.”

Dubiously, Daichi raises an eyebrow.

“I was born with glass bones,” Sugawara explains, the epitome of solemnity.       

“Right.” Daichi bites back a laugh, but maintains his composure. 

“Paper skin, Daichi. Every morning, I break my legs.” His eyes are wide and earnest.

“A very serious tragedy,” Daichi agrees, opening the top of yet another box. “Did they only give us one pair of chopsticks?” he asks with a slight huff. “ _ Honestly—” _

“C’mere,” Sugawara coaxes, a piece of tofu stuck between their lone pair of utensils. “I don’t think you’ll find them.” With his free hand, he pats the space in front of him, 

When Daichi sits with a quiet sigh, Sugawara holds the chopsticks up tentatively, bold thanks to his slight wine buzz. Nobody has fed Daichi like this since his childhood, probably, but as they sit cross legged on the couch, feeding one another with clumsy hands, he wonders why they’ve never tried this before. 

The door, completely forgotten, remains open long after they head to their respective beds, wine glasses left on the floor in front of the couch. And, as Daichi leaves the following morning, he makes sure to leave it open so that Sugawara will  _ have  _ to close it.

When he arrives back a few hours later, he’s locked out.  


	3. faces in the street

“Suga,” Daichi says, though his friend is engrossed in a movie. His laptop sits on his stomach and the blue light illuminates the soft slope of his nose. Their living room is dark otherwise, and rain pounds relentlessly against the room’s sole window.

“ _ Suga _ ,” he repeats with increased urgency. And then, “ _ Koushi! _ ”

Sugawara blinks, slowly closing the lid of his laptop and casting Daichi a sideways glance. Suddenly, Daichi feels just slightly foolish, but he speaks nonetheless.

“Vampires—they don’t sleep, do they?”

Koushi bursts out into laughter, bubbling up and over. His shoulders shake, and he shakes his head. “I can see why the question was so urgent,”  he says with total sincerity, and then nods. “They don’t,” he confirms.

“Our upstairs neighbors must be vampires, then,” Daichi decides. “It’s the only logical explanation to why they keep making so much  _ noise _ .” Which—it’s true. Their upstairs neighbors consistently stay up into the early morning hours. Sometimes, they play music. Sometimes, they talk, laugh, sing. Someone started to play the  _ violin  _ once at two-thirty, which is approximately when Daichi had decided it was enough.

He loves Tokyo, he does, but it’s so vast, so bustling, so  _ loud _ . It gets to him, at times. Miyagi was a sleepy town, and his parents had settled there years before he’d been born, so he’s unaccustomed to this way of living, to say the least.

“It’s getting to you, isn’t it?” Sugawara asks, letting his chin rest in the palm of his hands. Daichi has class at nine, and it’s already closing in on one in the morning. He should sleep, but he’s slightly too wound up. He’s going to be exhausted in the morning, but sleep is impossible.

He sighs, shrugs, and then admits that Sugawara is right. Rain had always soothed him, but it pounds against their window, and Daichi isn’t sure how it’s holding up. Surely, puddles have formed in the potholes outside. Surely, the plants at the front door of their apartment building are oversaturated with water.

“Come,” Sugawara finally says, wrapping a hand around Daichi’s wrist and pulling him up from the couch. When Daichi raises an eyebrow, uncertain, Sugawara simply repeats himself, and Daichi doesn’t have it in himself to protest.

Sugawara grabs a lone umbrella on their way out, drags him down two flights of stairs, and out the front door. 

There’s no awning above the door to the complex, so as they step outside, they’re met with rain that, while unpleasant, isn’t half as bad as their neighbors. After Sugawara has opened the umbrella, they sit in close proximity on the front step, and Daichi’s breath catches in his throat. Sugawara’s free arm is wrapped around Daichi’s bicep, and little water droplets travel down the lenses of his glasses. When Daichi catches their reflection in a puddle, he lets his head fall to rest on Sugawara’s shoulder.

Water seeps into the bottom of his pajama pants, and he knows it’s doing the same for Sugawara, too. The rain is persistent still, causing their reflection to ripple. Daichi lets a hand rest at the hem of Sugawara’s pajama shirt, his breathing evening to match the rise and fall of Sugawara’s.

Daichi isn’t sure how long they sit out on the stoop, but by the time they head inside, soaked and shivering, with drooping eyes, the rain has let up.

Their neighbors still chatter in the apartment above them. 


	4. mirror

Daichi is not a morning person. He never has been, and probably never will be. In his parents’ home, there’s an album of his baby photos, and he wears the same bleary-eyed expression he has in the general majority of them, when his alarm clock resounds from its place on the nightstand.

“Two minutes,” he tells it, shaking his head. It's too early, too loud. He pulls the covers over his head. Nothing.

Unforgiving, it continues to sound until he claps a hand on top, effectively silencing it. A coffee cup that had sat beside it clatters to the floor, but he doesn’t bother to pick it up.

From the floor, he reads  _ 9:30  _ and sighs, running a hand through his hair. Sugawara has definitely left for class already, since his begins at nine, so Daichi is all alone.

He has a test first thing in the morning, which has a spot scarily close to the top on the list of 't hings Daichi would rather die than do .’

He treks down the hallway, wiping sleep from his eyes, and closes the door behind him. He doesn’t look twice as he drops his pajama pants and steps into the shower room, barely holding back a yawn.

He doesn’t have the luxury of time, so he wastes none, lathering with their shared shower gel, letting the water beat down on his chest. Bubbles swirl around the drain, spiraling until they’re sucked down. Daichi shakes the water droplets from his hair, and they splash against the door. He’s still exhausted despite six hours of sleep behind him, and if he somehow manages to score well on his test, it will be nothing short of a miracle.

He steps out into the humid room, vision still half-blurry from sleep, and makes out a post-it stuck to the mirror frame; it’s not out of the ordinary for Sugawara to leave him notes, usually with things like ‘ _ i’ll be back at 4!’  _ or small shopping lists. So, Daichi plucks it from the mirror and scans over it, fully expecting a shopping list. He can easily stop after class—but it’s not a list.

_ Daichi—  _ it reads, scrawled in familiar handwriting. There’s a little doodle of a cat on the top, and Daichi could die, probably.

It goes on,  _ good luck on your test!! dw abt dinner i’ll pick something up!! see you this afternoon -s _

Daichi aces his test, which may or may not have something to do with the bright green post-it folded carefully in his pocket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this has been my favorite to write so far, i think, so i do hope you all enjoyed..!


	5. this road

It’s a shock that it’s taken Daichi and Sugawara as long as it has to find themselves lost in the streets of Tokyo. Really, it is—they’ve lived there close to a month now with little incident. Occasionally, they have to stop and ask for directions, and  _ yes _ , Daichi is heavily reliant on his phone’s satnav, but they’ve managed. 

Well, they’ve managed, until today; they’d went out to go to the grocery store during the middle of cooking dinner, except that their usual was closed. Dinner is still in a bowl on the counter, half-finished.

“We turned left here, so—” Sugawara tries. For Tokyo, it’s surprisingly quiet, and nobody is in the immediate vicinity to give them directions. Daichi’s phone is dead in his pocket, and Sugawara’s is charging on the counter at home.

“It was right,” Daichi says. “Wasn’t it? Because we turned since someone saw a  _ cat _ .”

“That wasn’t here!” Sugawara insists. “It was definitely left.” He pauses, tentatively reaching his right hand out.

Daichi steps back, but quickly realizes the request, and clasps his left hand around it, and Sugawara tugs him towards the left. Somehow, Daichi doesn’t protest.

“If you’re wrong,” he begins, “you’re making dinner for a week.”

“I’m not wrong,” Sugawara says. “But, fine. And  _ when  _ you’re wrong, you have to take the trash out for the next two.”

_ That’s unfair,  _ Daichi almost says, but he’s so sure he’s right, and if he fought, Sugawara might not hold his hand any longer. Which—Daichi doesn’t want to let him go any time soon.

“And a right up there,” Sugawara says, pointing up to a road sign. “C’mon. I’m sure of it.”

They make the right, and Daichi groans, because a block north is their apartment building. For all this time they had spent trying to find home, they had only ever been a handful of blocks away. Unwilling to admit his mistake, Daichi does the best to ignore the slight flush on his cheeks, and steps forward, glancing up once they approach their front door,

“I hope you have fun with the trash, Daichi,” Sugawara sing-songs, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “I think it’s supposed to rain tomorrow.”

Daichi isn’t mad even when Sugawara confirms the weather forecast, because the hand that he had held still feels warm, still slightly clammy.

It’s a feeling Daichi hopes will stay forever.


	6. aftermath

For what it’s worth, Sugawara was always the one to scold Daichi and their teammates for not getting enough sleep during high school. He was almost notorious for it—and it  _ worked _ , because gradually, they started getting to sleep earlier, studying earlier, generally having more energy to put into volleyball practice.

Maybe it had been because they cared about volleyball, or about Sugawara. Or, maybe it had been because they had been karate chopped in the side one too many times, and Sugawara surely didn’t let up any.

No matter  _ why  _ it had worked, it had, and the Karasuno volleyball team had gradually improved on their time management.

Now, though, it seems that Sugawara could stand to listen to his own advice. The last time Daichi had seen him had been an hour ago, at one-thirty, when he’d promised to turn the hallway lights off. His nose had been buried in a book, glasses perched on the tip of his nose, and a pink pen tucked behind his right ear.

Now, at two-thirty, the hallway lights are  _ still  _ on and Sugawara’s study music still plays, but there’s no noise besides the movie that plays on Daichi’s laptop, so he stalks off to investigate, leaving  _ Kiki’s Delivery Service  _ on in the background.

And, the sight he sees makes his breath hitch in his throat. On the couch, Sugawara sits with his back hunched, pen pressed into his cheek, and hair fallen over his eyes. If Daichi doesn’t move, if the floor doesn’t creak under his weight, he can hear quiet snoring.

Tentatively, quietly, with all the grace that somebody of his stature can manage, he approaches Sugawara’s sleeping figure, moving the notebook from his lap and the tortoiseshell glasses from his nose.

“Suga,” he tries, though his friend doesn’t move even a millimeter. “ _ Suga _ . Koushi, hey.” He knows—probably better than anybody—that Sugawara is a heavy sleeper, so he steps forward with slight hesitation, wrapping one arm around Sugawara’s back, the other under his thighs.

His pen clatters to the floor and Daichi winces, stilling. Sugawara stirs as he stands from the couch, half-asleep.

“Your… room?” he mumbles, delirious. When Daichi glances down, his eyes are still closed. He’s still asleep, and Daichi doesn’t think he’s ever felt so much love for one human being. He  _ also  _ doesn’t think his throat has ever felt so dry. 

“Yeah, okay,” he answers. His room is first, anyway, so it’s less of a walk. He carries Sugawara with ease, but it’s a good enough excuse. 

Once Sugawara is set down, pen indent still pressed into his cheek, Daichi can’t help but shake his head. His bed seems  _ so  _ much smaller than normal, though he doesn’t take up too much extra room.

As he falls to sleep beside Sugawara, lulled by the whirring of his stand fan and of his friend’s even, calm breaths, Daichi decides that the aftermath of a just  _ slightly  _ too long study session isn’t that bad, anyway.

Daichi sleeps the best he has in weeks, that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was one i've been excited about since i planned to start writing this, and i had so much fun creating a sweet, calm atmosphere for these two. thank you to everyone who has read + left kudos and comments so far!!


	7. very loud

It isn’t worth mentioning, but Daichi is starting to love Wednesday nights—or, he already _does_ love Wednesday nights. It isn’t because they’re easy; they’re his busiest days, in terms of school. He doesn’t watch any particular shows on Wednesday, doesn’t have anything that most might look forward to.

To any outsider, Daichi’s Wednesday is nothing, but this small span of twenty minutes is _everything_. He and Sugawara are on fairly different school schedules, and they rarely get to take the train together. But on Wednesday, they get to ride home together.

His last class finishes thirty minutes after Sugawara’s does, so his friend always lingers outside of the lecture hall, waiting, and they walk to the train together. Nobody, even Sugawara himself, Daichi is certain, thinks anything of it, but it’s one of the best parts of his week.

Sugawara has dozed off, his cheek pressed against Daichi’s shoulder, and Daichi doesn’t have the heart to wake him. He’s so peaceful, and their stop is ten minutes away, so Daichi lets him sleep, all the while trying to ignore his rapid heartbeat.

It’s loud, too, or perhaps it’s his imagination. People chatter to his left, a baby cries somewhere, but his heartbeat is the loudest thing on this train, thundering and impossible to ignore.

Maybe it’s for the best that this is only a weekly occurence, because Daichi isn’t convinced his heart wouldn’t implode otherwise.


	8. shoes

For somebody that isn't dating Sugawara, Daichi is too often mistaken for his boyfriend. Maybe he wishes it wasn't a mistake—but he won't confirm or deny it.

Between old teammates, friends, and distant relatives, they’re ever so used to the assumption. It doesn't bother him, really; it’s merely a harmless assumption.

Sugawara had taken him out to dinner just an hour earlier, and while Daichi had enjoyed himself, of course, it’s always a slight challenge.

He met up with Kuroo instead of returning home, suggesting they jog. Daichi is immensely grateful for the distraction. They chat lightly as they continue on the worn down path.

Their shoes slap against the pavement, rhythm just opposite one another, as they proceed onwards.

“I like Suga,” Daichi blurts, footsteps ceasing. Kuroo’s carry on for a moment, before he shoots a gaze back towards Daichi, hand on his hip.

“Duh,” he says, and then, when Daichi looks at him, perplexed, he continues: “But seriously, we know that. Dear Suga-san probably does, too.”

“We?” Daichi mirrors, and Kuroo shakes his head, denying him an answer. He gestures forward, and as their footsteps resume, Daichi wonders if there’s much truth to Kuroo’s words.

Mostly, Daichi hopes so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this fic mostly during my graduation ceremony, which is by far the strangest place i've had to write fic


	9. nothing

“I have a paper due tomorrow, Suga,” Daichi says when Sugawara observes that he seems more tense than usual. “And a group project—I’m supposed to meet up with two people from class, and I—”

“Daichi,” Sugawara interjects, frowning. He sits on the couch, legs crossed, and glances up at Daichi, who paces the length of their kitchen, shaking his head.

“So I really can’t afford to—”

“Hey,” Sugawara says, standing from their couch. “Hey, Daichi. Daichi— come here.”

“I don’t have  _ time, _ ” Daichi insists. He can physically feel the pressures of his schoolwork mounting on his shoulders.

“You have plans.”

“Plans?” Daichi asks dubiously; he’s not certain as to what Sugawara has up his sleeve, and while he’s not quite ready to shoot them down, they’d have to be really, really excellent for him to abandon his work.

“We’re doing nothing.”

“We’re doing nothing?” he mirrors .

“You’re gonna sit down,” Sugawara says, tugging at Daichi’s wrist and pulling him to a sitting position. “And  _ me _ , I’m gonna put this blanket over our laps, and we’re going to watch some crappy documentary, and you’re gonna sit and do nothing with me. No ifs, ands, or buts.”

“But—” Daichi begins, and Sugawara raises an eyebrow, setting the remote down in Daichi’s lap. 

“Nothing. C’mon, there’s supposed to be a documentary on show dogs that I just saw on the guide earlier.”

He leans into Sugawara’s shoulder, cottony blanket pulled over the length of their laps. Just as Sugawara had told him, the documentary begins to play on their small television, and while Daichi is still tense, still feels the pressure of all his due work almost physically, he can’t imagine moving from their position.

He doesn’t even really pay attention to the documentary, but there’s no reason to tell Sugawara this. He seems pretty invested in the show dogs, for what it’s worth.

Daichi is glad Sugawara suggested this, anyway. 


	10. anywhere in the world

They shouldn’t stay up this late, but they do. They hadn’t intended to, but Sugawara brought home coffee from his night class—poor planning, really—and neither of them had been able to fall asleep.

They had tried, of course, but each come out of their respective bedrooms, only to retreat back to Sugawara’s; it doesn’t have a window, so there’s no light besides the glow of their phones.

“Twenty pillow talk questions for late nights,” Sugawara reads off of his, grinning.

Laughter erupts from Daichi’s chest, and Sugawara hushes him, though it’s not long before he joins in.

“How many pets is  _ too  _ many,” Sugawara asks, one eyebrow quirked. 

“It’s good to delve right into the hard-hitting questions,” Daichi answers, and then, after a moment of contemplation, “I’d say a two to one pet-owner ratio is ideal.”

“I could handle more than that. A whole zoo, probably.”

“You could not,” Daichi counters, reaching for the phone.

“What was your favorite movie when you were a little kid?”

“ _ Castle in the Sky _ ,” Sugawara says, confident. “Every time.”

“Classic.” He hands the phone back, stifling a yawn,  _ finally _ .

“If I killed someone, would you call the cops on me?”

“I wouldn’t,” Daichi says, not hesitating. Sugawara looks—he looks shocked.

“You would!”

“I wouldn’t,” he repeats. “Because you’d probably kill  _ me _ , and it’d probably be over something dumb, like—”

“Like your inability to  _ close the cabinet doors!  _ Honestly, Daichi. If I hadn’t met your mom, I’d think you’d been raised by wolves.”

“Give it,” he says, ignoring Sugawara’s playful teasing. “Do you believe in soulmates?”

“I’d like to think so,” Sugawara says, shrugging. “It’s sort of romantic, the idea of your  _ one  _ perfect match. I’d really like to think mine’s out there somewhere—but what are the odds of ever meeting him, you know?”

“It’s a nice concept,” Daichi agrees, handing the device back.

“Good question,” Sugawara praises. “If you could travel anywhere in the world, where would you go?”

“Is money an object?” Daichi asks, though he’s floundering to think of an answer; he’d go  _ anywhere _ , would go to a dump, antarctica, or somewhere equally as miserable, if Sugawara could go with him, but he doesn’t let that slip.

Expectantly, Sugawara glances up at him, shoulders forward.

“I’d like to go to America, one day,” he says. “New York, maybe, or California.”

“We could go after we graduate, probably,” Sugawara says. “I—if you wanted. Like, a celebration before we’re thrust into the throngs of adulthood.”

“I’d love that,” Daichi says. “I’m not gonna forget that offer, so don’t  _ you  _ forget it, Suga.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Daichi plays it off, but his heart actually soars straight out of his body, he’s pretty sure. 


	11. stars

 

It's been two months since either Daichi or Sugawara has visited Miyagi, and while it hasn't change much, there's something about it that doesn't quite feel real. It's slightly...surreal, especially compared to Tokyo, with its high-rise buildings and near constant activity.

It's quiet, and Daichi feels slightly out of place. Maybe Sugawara feels the same, but if he does, he doesn't let on to it. They had collectively met up with Azumane and Shimizu in the afternoon, gone out to the movies and split, though neither of them had been willing to return home; they've been aimlessly wandering the streets of their tiny hometown for hours now.

The sky has darkened from a vast, bright blue, faded into light purples and whites, to settle on the inky indigo that stretches and sweeps above their heads, no end in sight. There's an end to it, as there is to everything, but Daichi can't see it past the treetops. He prefers it that way. 

“There’s no stars in Tokyo,” he observes, tilting his head upward. Sugawara mirrors this.

“There’s light pollution in Tokyo,” he chimes in, frowning.

“There is, yeah. I forgot how many you could see here.” He’s completely bluffing—he’s never been any good at pointing out constellations, but he still points his pinky finger above their heads. tracing an imaginary shape in the sky. “That’s—”

  
“You can not tell constellations. I know you can’t,” Sugawara interrupts, reaching up and swatting his hand out of the air.

  
“You’ve mortally wounded me.” Daichi cradles the afflicted hand, over dramatic.

  
“I’ll make it up to you,” Sugawara promises. “We’ll buy those glow in the dark stickers, and I’ll take the liberty of arranging them in constellations.”

  
“Maybe I’ll learn them, then,” Daichi says.

  
“Maybe you will,” Sugawara agrees, even though they both know he won’t.


	12. out of control

The train ride from Miyagi to Tokyo isn’t a long one, but it’s still slightly unpleasant. People crowd in beside Daichi, and someone spills their iced coffee on his lap ten minutes in, making for an awfully unpleasant two hour journey.

It’s no surprise they take a taxi back to their apartment, because Daichi’s pants and thighs are still sticky from the sugary drink, and Sugawara is exhausted; it’s plain to see neither of them have it in them to walk, so they simply don’t.

They don’t even change when they arrive home. They drop their bags and shoes by the front door, Daichi discards his jeans in his bedroom, and they both duck into Sugawara’s. Daichi joins him because his own bed is covered in clothes, and he’s  _ not  _ moving them until morning.

So, he lies awake in Sugawara’s bed while he sleeps on his stomach, one arm slung across Daichi’s chest, and his cheek pressed against the pillow, which—Daichi presses his palm to it—is warm, and definitely no longer comfortable.

It’s quiet, and Daichi is unmoving, letting his eyes flutter shut. He’s exhausted but still far from sleep, and his chest half aches with want.

_ This whole thing has gotten horribly out of control _ .

He knows this, he does, has known for awhile. Kuroo had told him this, too, but change is uncertain and strange and not eagerly accepted, so Daichi sits quiet with that knowledge.

His crush is out of control. Sugawara mumbles something in his sleep, lips pouted slightly from the pillow pressing into them, breathing even and slightly loud, and if they never moved, Daichi isn’t sure he would mind that.

His crush is out of control; that’s undeniable, but maybe that isn’t the worst thing in the world.   


	13. forgotten

Sugawara takes his bottom lip between his teeth, tugs a loose piece of chapped skin, and winces when it pulls away, though there’s no other reaction, no acknowledgement. A tube of chapstick lies beside his open textbook, which is littered with pink post-it notes, and he’s quiet, mostly.

He’s studious, and Daichi can’t focus. He wears his round glasses, which relentlessly slip down the bridge of his nose—of  _ course  _ they do, because he’s hardly looked up in the time since the two of them had decided to study together. He fixes them with the gentle push of his index finger, flicking his gaze back down to his book.

Daichi can’t pay attention. Well, no. He  _ can  _ pay attention, but to Sugawara, to the way his shoulders hunch slightly and to the way his fingers now pick at a post-it note, distracted but not distracting him. He hums lowly to himself, following along with the instrumental music coming from his laptop. It’s halfway across the room, perched half-open on his bed.

Daichi can’t pay attention to his studies, which is slightly new and most definitely an issue, because he has a test tomorrow morning, and if he can’t pass it, he’s essentially hopeless.

Sugawara doesn’t even know how distracting he is, though that’s probably for the best. With a shake of his head, Daichi directs his attention downwards towards his own textbook, mentally chastising himself for losing track.

If he doesn’t at least make an attempt, he’s certain to fail, so Daichi tries his best to commit the image of Sugawara to memory, not daring to tear his eyes from the text in front of him.

It’s much easier said than done, but Daichi manages; he hardly remembers any of the information as he pours over it, but he tries, absolutely. 


	14. home

Daichi’s parents help with rent, even though they have two other children to support, and he and Sugawara have their respective part-time jobs (his at a bookstore, Sugawara’s at a florist), so that they can afford off-campus housing.  
It isn’t spacious but it’s theirs. Their couch is shoved against a half-wall, and Daichi can hardly turn around in their kitchen, but even if someone could offer them a more spacious place, he would turn it down in an instant.  
This is their home, a home which, even though they’ve only occupied it for a handful of months, feels like it holds a lifetime worth of memories.  
For instance, there’s a shoe basket by the door, and Daichi can always tell Sugawara’s whereabouts based on if his are missing. On a shelf above the wall opposite the couch, there are—nine, Daichi counts—scented candles, ranging from red velvet cupcake to pineapple, because Sugawara can’t stop bringing them home. Daichi always says he’ll put his foot down soon, because they rarely even burn them—they haven’t even finished one yet—but their collection grows, steady.  
There’s a blind that’s broken on the right side; it’s been that way since they viewed their apartment, and while their landlord had promised to get it fixed, it remains, although it’s no longer a nuisance but a part of their space.   
The cabinet above the sink is filled to the brim with mugs. None of them match, except for two white ones, emblazoned with best dad 1 and best dad 2, gifts from their volleyball team upon parting. Azumane and Shimizu own the mugs that complete the collection, naturally.  
Nothing goes very well together, but it’s their space. As chaotic and cluttered as it may be, Daichi loves it wholeheartedly, because it’s so thoroughly them. It’s priceless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really didn't think i'd be able to post today, but i did! even if it's already 10 pm... i still did it!! i've been having so much fun with this series and i'm so glad that you all are enjoying it :')


	15. witness

There’s something special about dusk, when the sun begins its descent and the sky fades into dusty purples and pinks. There’s something about the hazy golden glow that comes just before this, something that, while Daichi hasn’t been able to put his finger on it, has been the subject of immense fascination and admiration for years.

It’s golden in their apartment, sunlight seeping through wooden windowpanes and flooding their tiny living room, overflowing and pressing into the divots in the floorboards and the holes in the walls. He blinks in the radiance of it all, and Sugawara...he basks.

He’s not aware of it, probably, but he sits beneath the window, and the sunlight which occupies their apartment frames his hair, a halo of silvery flyaways. He’s the image of warmth, of home; Daichi could never feel out of place here, gazing at his friend.

Sugawara doesn’t know. He isn’t aware of Daichi’s silent admiration or his growing appreciation for the golden hour, but it’s real and there and the feeling of overwhelming content grips at Daichi, the same way a young child might grip their mother’s hand.

It’s completely ordinary. If an outsider could look in, they certainly would not look twice. But Daichi likes that, because it would feel—inappropriate, perhaps—for any outsider to look in, to witness the quiet, warm golden of their apartment.

“Daichi” Sugawara breaks the silence, glancing up over the frames of round glasses. “What’s on your mind? You’re not usually this quiet, so—”

Daichi could try to explain it, but Sugawara wouldn’t truly understand, so he doesn’t try.

“You just look so content in the sunlight,” he says, settling. Sugawara’s crooked smile tells him that this is the case exactly. So, maybe he does understand, after all.


	16. small things

The thing that comes to the forefront of Daichi’s mind when he sees Sugawara—or, when he sees what Sugawara is holding—is  _ oh, no _ . 

He hadn’t texted Daichi back earlier in the afternoon, which is odd for them, because it’s routine; if one of them is out, they always text back and forth, but there had been nothing besides silence on Sugawara’s part. Daichi had chalked it up to a dead phone, but he can plainly see that that’s not the case at all.

The kitten is grey. Or white. Daichi can’t discern what’s its actual coloring and what’s… soot or dirt, but it mostly looks white, which—okay. It’s cute, but they can’t have a  _ cat _ . They can’t have a cat this small, especially. Sugawara holds a dropper full of milk in his left hand, kitten cradled in his right.

He approaches the pair, and Sugawara flicks his eyes up from their apparent house guest, who gives a pathetic meow, completely helpless. Daichi doubts it’s more than a handful of weeks old, though he’s not exactly an expert in felines.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Sugawara says before he can get a word out. “But, he—she? I don’t know. Anyway, they were just out in the street when I went down to get the mail, and Daichi, they were so helpless and quiet, and I couldn’t just leave them, you know? So I tried to clean them up and—” he babbles uselessly, a whirlwind.

Sugawara and the cat must be conspiring, because they both wear helpless expressions, though Sugawara’s is moreso that of guilt. Daichi rubs two fingers against his right temple, gives a deep sigh, and frowns.

“Your heart’s too big,” he chastises, though the tough exterior he’d put on is quickly crumbling. Sugawara knows, and Daichi knows, too. Really, he’d have done the same in the situation, so he can’t  _ really  _ be angry.

“I know, but you wouldn’t have left them either.” Sugawara pouts, cradling the kitten against his chest. “I’m not saying we have to keep them, but…”

He does  _ not  _ look hopeful. Daichi has the heart to deny him. Neither of these things are true.

“Do you see any greys in my hair, Suga? Because that’s what you’re doing to me,” he says, though there’s no malice in his tone. Instead of waiting for an answer, he reaches his hands out tentatively to hold the kitten. If they’re going to keep it, he might as well bond. It can’t hurt, really—it can’t.

As the kitten stretches one arm forward, gripping onto the cotton of Daichi’s shirt, Sugawara looks on, wearing an expression of absolute admiration.

Daichi wears an almost identical one, too, but instead of looking at the kitten, he looks at Sugawara.

So, they’ll keep it, half because they could use the excitement, half because Daichi is weak, absolutely weak, when Sugawara wears that expression, and Sugawara doesn’t even  _ know _ that that’s the effect he has. It’s unfair, really. 


	17. early morning

They name the kitten Yuuna only after she’s declared healthy by the vet  _ and  _ approved by their landlord, and Daichi’s starting to think that the meaning of her name— _ gentle _ —is completely inappropriate, because she’s not gentle, not delicate in the slightest.

They love her, and Daichi doesn’t regret keeping her, but when she hops up on his chest and chirps, loud and insistent, he half wishes that they didn’t have her. Tuesdays are his only day to sleep in, and it’s far,  _ far _ too early for this. He scoops her up, deposits her on the floor, and turns so his back is facing her.

She’s insistent, doesn’t let up with her meows until he gets out of bed and puts her in the hallway, closing his door. He feels slightly guilty, of course, but he needs peace and quiet. He and Sugawara always get up late on Tuesdays, since neither of them have class, and he’s not about to give that up. So, his guilt isn’t immense enough to keep him from going back to sleep.

That is, he  _ tries  _ to go back to sleep, until Sugawara opens his door, groggy and with Yuna—which, Daichi swears she looks smug—cradled in his arms.

“She came to you first, didn’t she,” he mumbles, struggling to keep his eyes open.

“No,” Daichi lies. “Uh, no. She didn’t.”

“You’re the worst,” Sugawara says. “Just the  _ worst _ . And if I have to be up and feed her, then you do, too.”

Daichi begins to protest, because they don’t need two people to feed a cat. She’s still so young, still has a hard time eating kitten food, so they feed her with a dropper. It’s exhausting, of course, but she’s quickly approaching the age where she’ll be able to eat actual food, so there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.

When Sugawara raises an eyebrow, Daichi finally steps out of bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“It’s like having a baby,” he says as he hands the dropper to Sugawara. They’re both too exhausted to stand (it’s  _ so  _ early, the sun is still rising,) so they settle on the couch instead.

“Practically,” Sugawara agrees. “She’s cuter, though. And she grows up quicker.”

“She’s good, though. Mostly.”

“Mostly. Even if she ruins our plans to sleep in.”

Daichi can’t help but laugh at that, because they’re not  _ plans _ , really. Every Tuesday, they emerge from their rooms, still in the morning, but just barely, settle around their kitchen table, and drink tea, slowly easing into the day. It’s dependable, just understood, and Daichi  _ loves  _ it.

Although, their routine isn’t all ruined, because the three of them are back to sleep within the hour, and Daichi much prefers it this way, Sugawara leaning into his shoulder, Daichi’s arm slung around his shoulder, Yuuna sleeping between them. Maybe he owes her one, anyway.   


	18. warning

Daichi generally doesn’t think anything of how closely he always sits to Sugawara, doesn’t pay mind to the arm perpetually slung over his friend’s shoulder. Sugawara doesn’t mind. He always lies back against Daichi’s chest, even falls asleep half the time. It means nothing.

So, why Daichi’s thinking so intently about it now is a mystery; Sugawara’s between wake and sleep, and night bleeds into the walls of their apartment. As always, his arm is around Sugawara’s. Today, though, he’d laced their fingers together, so maybe that’s the cause of his anxiety.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to hold hands, because he  _ does _ . He wants to hold hands, wants to curl up in bed next to Sugawara, wants to kiss him. Sugawara had gone to Lush a few days before, returning with a lip scrub and a face mask, so his lips are soft and his skin glows, and Daichi feels something tugging inside of him.

_ You’re too obvious _ , he warns himself. Sugawara is oblivious. 

_ You’re too obvious,  _ the voice inside his head repeats, an intrusive mantra. He’ll tell Sugawara eventually, definitely. Probably. Maybe.

He doesn’t know, doesn’t know what the best course of action is. Perhaps he could pull himself away, detach himself slightly and make it easier for his feelings to fizzle and dissipate into nothing. That would be easy. 

But Sugawara isn’t easy, and crushes aren’t easy, and confessing and dating—or being turned down—that’s not easy either. It’s messy and clumsy and awkward, and Daichi is only in the beginning stages. Sugawara doesn’t even know.

_ You’d better watch yourself,  _ the voice warns as Daichi squeezes Sugawara’s hand. He tries to pay it no mind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	19. walk away

When Daichi approaches the door to his apartment building, he doesn’t enter. His keys sit heavy in his pocket, but he doesn’t reach for them. Sugawara is home, probably waiting for him, but there’s a tight tugging feeling in Daichi’s chest, and he doesn’t think he can go inside.

He sends one text to Kuroo, and then another to Sugawara, sighing as he does so:

[04:45]  **daichi:**

_ Do you wanna meet up I’m out of class  _

[04:46]  **daichi:**

_ I’m going to meet with a friend tonight I’ll be back later _

Kuroo isn’t busy, which is lucky, and Daichi has probably never been so relieved as he is when he sees him waving down the street.

He loves Sugawara.

He loves Sugawara. That’s the problem. Or—it’s not a problem, per se, but it isn’t great, because he harbors this feelings and Sugawara doesn’t  _ know _ , and if Daichi had an ounce of sense, he’d just tell Sugawara. It’d be best that way. 

“Sugawara wasn’t home?” he asks when they meet, heading in the direction of… Daichi doesn’t know, exactly, but Kuroo seems to have a destination in mind. He doesn’t ask.

“Uh. No, Suga was home. I just wanted to be—I wanted to be out of the house, I guess?”

“You haven’t told him yet,” Kuroo says. 

“I haven’t told him yet,” Daichi repeats, honest and dutiful.

“You should get around to that, one of these days,” Kuroo says, shrugging. “Word could slip out, you never know.”

“I’d kill you,” Daichi says with a level of casualty that’s alarming, almost. 

“I don’t think—” Kuroo says and then quiets, pointing left, towards a coffee shop, which they quickly duck into.

Daichi doesn’t ask him to finish his sentence once they’ve settled; it’s probably better that he doesn’t hear it, anyway. 


	20. everybody

There’s no way that  _ everybody  _ knows of Daichi’s feelings for Sugawara. There’s simply no way. Kuroo is—he provokes, he over-exaggerates and teases, and Daichi doesn’t mind that, but he can’t be telling the truth when he says that everybody knows.

If Kuroo knows, Bokuto and Kozume know, and Bokuto would have told Akaashi, certainly. Tsukishima must, too, because Kuroo and Bokuto are lethal when they’re together, in terms of gossiping, and word of mouth spreads quickly.

That’s most likely it, though, and while Daichi would rather  _ not  _ share an unofficial (yet somehow very pressing) crush with them, it’s out of his hands. It’s fine. His feelings for Sugawara still have a sense of privacy to them, because even if Kuroo’s group of friends know, they don’t quite understand, and Daichi can hold onto that.

They don’t know about their little routines: notes on the mirrors, bringing home fresh flowers, dancing in their tiny kitchen. They don’t know the way Sugawara’s smile and the crinkles at the corners of his eye—and his beauty mark, too—make Daichi’s heart leap out of his chest. They don’t know any of this, so he maintains a degree of privacy, too. 

These casual intimacies are enough for him, at least for the time being. Sugawara is enough for him. Sugawara is more than enough for him. And, perhaps, an opportunity for Daichi to confess will arrive—and perhaps it won’t. He doesn’t know which he prefers, but their quiet world, their togetherness and intertwined routines, it’s wonderful, and Daichi is so,  _ so  _ lucky.

So, maybe everybody does know, but it’s little more than the bare minimum, and they don’t feel what Daichi feels. They never will, either, and Daichi is  _ so  _ okay with that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had a pretty hard time with this prompt, but i hope that in the end, you enjoyed reading it  
> i can't believe this is already two thirds of the way finished, also!! ten more days to go :')


	21. things people say

“I—I like you.  _ I like you _ . And I hope that that doesn’t make anything—”

Daichi shakes his head, takes in a sharp breath, and opens his eyes. In their bathroom mirror, his face stares back at him and he blinks, tired and confused.

That’s too much, and he shouldn’t apologize, probably. He didn’t do anything wrong. Sugawara may not feel the same—Daichi doesn’t know—but he’s not wrong for having feelings for Sugawara.

“It’s tricky, and I’ve been wrestling with it for a few months, but I can’t pretend any longer,” he says. 

No. He rests his hand on the side of the sink, yawns, and lets his eyes scan over his face. He’s expressionless, mostly, but his heart races in his chest. It’s funny, because he’s not telling Sugawara today; he isn’t even in their apartment, and there’s no chance of him hearing, but Daichi is all open nerves, and it feels almost as if there are small shocks down the length of his spine.

“I just like you,” he finally says. “And I hope that you feel the same, but I understand if you don’t, really, I do. But I had to say something.”

This is hard. This is a monumental task, and one Daichi isn’t ready to face, exactly. Even if he had been ready to face it, a confession isn’t really something he could—or should—script, anyway.

He turns away from the bathroom just in time to hear Sugawara’s key in the lock in the front door.


	22. supermarket

When they had arrived home from the supermarket, plastic bags in tow, Daichi was surprised to come across a small glass bottle of nail polish amongst their food. He had almost thought it was put there by accident, but then Sugawara took it from him, pocketing it. He’d asked a few hours later if Daichi might mind painting his nails, which is how he finds himself in this current situation. 

Sugawara’s hand shakes slightly from where it lies against Daichi’s palm, and Daichi’s hands shake, too, but nobody mentions it.

The polish is pretty, a soft purple, and they’re in the process of doing a second coat, so they’ve been sitting knee-to-knee in their apartment’s tiny bathroom for fifteen minutes.

“The color’s good,” he remarks, wiping a stray drop off from where it leaks onto Sugawara’s skin. 

“Yeah,” Sugawara breathes. “Uh. Thanks for helping me, anyway. It’d probably be a mess if I did it alone.”

“We’d be finding nail polish spots all over forever.”

Daichi wishes silently that Sugawara would choose to paint his nails more often; if he wanted help weekly, even, Daichi would certainly never complain.

He finishes without incident, removes his hand from Sugawara’s, and offers a slight smile.

“Thanks, Daichi,” Sugawara chirps, sitting up from the edge of the bathtub. He almost brushes his fingers against a towel, almost messes up the polish, but narrowly manages to avoid it.

Daichi is only slightly disappointed.


	23. too many

The longer they live together, the more details Daichi begins to notice about Sugawara. He’s known him for several years; they’d grown close in their first year of high school, and by the end, had been inseparable, never one without the other.

Sugawara’s eyes light up when he speaks, and when he smiles big enough, he has a slight crossbite. One of his front teeth is chipped at the bottom, too. He has freckles and moles spanning his back, and a scar on his right shoulder (from falling out of a tree as a child, he had explained.)

He moves his hands constantly, twirling his pencils, bunching up his sleeves in his hands, or tapping at his phone. Maybe he’s restless, and maybe he’s bored, but it’s endearing.

Sugawara always falls asleep with two socks and he always wakes up with one, and he puts exactly three spoonfuls of sugar in his morning coffee, and Daichi loves him so much it hurts.

These details are tiny, completely insignificant, even to Sugawara, but they all comprise  _ him _ , and Daichi grows fonder every day. There are too many intricacies to count. Daichi will never commit them all to memory, but he’ll certainly try.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'd like to dedicate this chapter to the loud child on the plane ride home who prevented me from reading, thus making me write and post this barely an hour before midnight.  
> but, hey, i still got it posted on time!! hope you enjoyed :')


	24. wrong way

There’s a student-run cafe on Daichi’s college campus, and after his and Sugawara’s Friday classes are in the books, they often find themselves heading in that direction, worn down by the week’s events.

It’s a tiny space; there are only three tables and a seat in the window, which Sugawara had secured for them. They hadn’t meant to stay very long, because they each have a paper to work on, but as the rain had started to drizzle and gradually pick up, Daichi had been mostly unwilling to leave.

It’s probably not advisable to admire your best friend so openly in a public place, just as it is unwise to confess, or, in his case,  _ contemplate  _ confessing, in a public space. And, yet, Daichi is most definitely doing both of those things.

It’s something about the flush on Sugawara’s cheeks, something about the way his lips are soft even in the harsh weather, something about the way he grins at Daichi like he’s the  _ sun _ .

“Suga,” he says suddenly. Within the confines of his chest, Daichi’s heart beats, threatening to explode out. He’s been sitting on this crush for far too long, and—

“Can I get your dishes?” an employee asks, and Daichi holds back a grimace, because Sugawara doesn’t even appear to have heard him, and there’s certainly no way he’s going to build up confidence again.

After they’ve handed over their cups, Sugawara turns to him with a smile and a cock of his head, asking “What’d you want?”

“Uh.” Daichi wrings his hands under the table. Sugawara’s gaze is soft and kind, but Daichi squirms under it. “I was just thinking we should go, since the rain let up.”

The sun peeks behind the clouds, cautious but still present. Daichi hopes, when the time does come where he’s able to confess to Sugawara, that he can mimic that, overcoming the clouds—or, in their case, a poorly timed waiter. He really, really hopes so.


	25. remember

Daichi and Sugawara can fit comfortably on their—admittedly small—loveseat, but there’s not much room for a third person, and they don’t have any other living chairs. So, when Azumane comes to visit for a weekend, Daichi and Sugawara find themselves sitting on the floor, one or the other.

Azumane had apologized the first time, offering to sit there instead, but they had politely refused, and Sugawara had taken the other spot on the couch.

That’s exactly how they sit on Azumane’s last night, all sat around their low table. On Daichi’s lap, their kitten sleeps, for once, and the three of them trade stories of their high school days. It’s just comedic, mostly, but Azumane has gotten misty-eyed a handful of times. (Daichi can’t blame him.)

“I still remember at the beginning of third year,” Sugawara begins, and by the way his shoulders shake already, Daichi can tell it’s a good one. He recounts one of Hinata and Kageyama’s first days at Karasuno, and how Daichi had locked them out of the gym. Midway through, they’re all clutching their stomachs as they laugh.

“Kageyama was all—” Asahi joins in, scowling as a means of an (admittedly poor) impression of the setter, “ _ I’d rather do it by myself than with him! _ ”

By the end of their storytelling session, Yuuna has long since woken, batting a hair tie around the floor, and Daichi’s stomach hurts so much from all the laughter. Just as equally, his heart feels warm at the recollection, and he makes a mental note that they’ll have to invite Azumane back sooner rather than later.


	26. song

Every summer has a series of generic pop anthems, and while Daichi doesn’t personally love them, they’re energizing. So, he and Sugawara listen to last summer’s hits while they make breakfast. It’s a nice routine, when they actually take the time to cook together, and one that he often looks forward to.

They’re still slow to wake up, both wearing too-large matching flannel pajama pants. Sugawara hasn’t even put in his contacts yet, and his hair is tousled by sleep. There’s a pink flush on his cheeks, and Daichi is just hit with overwhelming affection, suddenly there and real and warm. He knows he shouldn’t stare, shouldn’t ogle, but he  _ does _ .

“Need help?” Sugawara asks, quiet.

“Can’t focus,” Daichi admits.

“Oh, that’s okay. You can sit on the counter, if you want?” he offers, head cocked.

“I can’t focus,” Daichi repeats. “You—I’m sorry.” He’s feeling nothing if not impulsive, and even if this is a stupid idea, he can’t help it. He simply can’t help it. “I like you, Suga. I—”

“I’d hope you do, since we live together.” Unphased, Sugawara stirs the pot in front of him, and Daichi watches as his eyes widen in realization.

“I  _ like you _ ,” he repeats, slowly. His shoulders slump in relief. 

“Oh,” Sugawara sighs, turning away from the pot, and then, “oh!”

“ _ Oh  _ is right,” Daichi teases. Sugawara is in such close proximity to him, having turned to face him. Daichi has never been so grateful to have a kitchen so small.

He shakes slightly, closing the gap between them and resting a hand on the small of Sugawara’s back. It’s an languid, easy kiss, and they break apart in a fit of breathy laughter when they bump noses. Instead of eye contact, Sugawara rests his head on Daichi’s shoulder, and Daichi wraps his arms around his waist.

“I do too,” Sugawara confirms, voice muffled against Daichi’s shirt.

“I’d hope so,” Daichi teases, “Since I just kissed you.”

Sugawara cranes his head up, and they meet again for another.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoop there it is


	27. impatience

When Daichi returns home, exhausted and shoulders slumped, Sugawara is waiting for him in the kitchen; it’s the first thing he sees, half because the kitchen is visible as soon as you open the door, half because the first thing he always looks for is Sugawara.

“That was the single longest day of my life,” he announces as he bends to remove his shoes. His backpack falls to the floor, and he shoves it to be closer to the wall.

“No  _ hello _ ?”

“Hello,” he corrects, “That was the single longest day of my life.” 

“I could fix it,” Sugawara decides, stepping forward with open arms. Daichi clasps their hands together, his other free hand coming to rest just at Sugawara’s waist. “I missed you,” he continues, punctuating each word with a chaste kiss to Daichi’s lips—first to the left corner, then the right, and then directly in the center.

“I’d have more bad days if you always greeted me this way,” Daichi chuckles, letting himself step backwards to accommodate for the weight leaning against him.

“You don’t—” Sugawara pauses, delivering another kiss, more drawn-out, “You don’t have to have bad days for me to kiss you,  you know.”

He doesn’t give Daichi a chance to respond before they meet in another. Daichi, worn by the day’s events, lets Sugawara lead him along with easy, gentle movements. He gradually moves his hand until it’s rubbing at the bottom of his boyfriend’s shoulder blade.

When they break, a string of drool stretches and snaps between them, and the two of them dissolve into a chorus of soft laugher. 

“You’re wonderful,” Daichi sighs once they’ve settled once more, and Sugawara leans in for another.

Daichi meets him halfway. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i tried to take myself out of my comfort zone here - i usually don't write detailed kiss scenes, and while i realize this isn't terribly detailed, it's probably the most i've done in a fic!!! baby steps or something like that


	28. if

If Daichi hadn’t confessed when he did, he’d still be sleeping in his own bed, curled up with either the cat or his body pillow, rather than curled around Sugawara.

If he hadn’t confessed when he did, he’d never wake up to breakfast waiting in the fridge for him, would never come home to fresh flowers on the kitchen table. (Perhaps he still would, but nowhere near as frequently as he does now.)

If he and Sugawara hadn’t dated, they’d lose quick pecks and long, drawn out kisses, and all these casual intimacies. If he and Sugawara hadn’t dated, he’d lose so many of the sleepy mornings in bed, legs intertwined and breathing slow.

But they are, and he had confessed, and they have all these things, all these slow, careful affections, and Daichi is careful to cherish each and every moment.


	29. one hundred years

There’s something surreal about endings, though Daichi’s last day of classes isn’t so much an end as it is the beginning of an interim. He and Sugawara will resume school once more in a handful of months, but as they stumble into their apartment, caffeine-fueled and giddy on exhaustion, this interim feels like cause for celebration.

“I don’t think I failed, but it’s definitely nothing to take home proudly,” Daichi decides, stepping on the backs of his shoes and slipping out of them. His end of year exams had all blurred together in his mind, and by the dazed expression Sugawara wears, they had the same effect for him, too.

Sugawara hums quiet in his throat, extending a hand and pulling Daichi towards their couch. “Nap,” he explains, dissolving into a fit of giggles; nothing is particularly funny, or funny in the slightest, and even so, Daichi joins in.

“Not a nap. We’re sleeping,” he corrects, grinning. “We’re going all out.”

“Sleeping, then,” Sugawara agrees. “As long as you’re with me, I don’t care what we call it.” He sighs, and Daichi drapes the blanket over both of them, an arm wrapped around Sugawara’s shoulders.

They’ll be stiff when they wake, in their sitting positions, all huddled together. Sugawara’s neck is bent to rest on Daichi’s shoulder, but Daichi can’t dream of moving, and it doesn’t seem that his boyfriend could, either.

“Sleep,” he mumbles. “Yeah. Good. Your best idea, probably.”

“My best idea,” Sugawara mirrors. “I could sleep for like, minimum, hundred years.”

Daichi intends to respond, honestly, he does—but he falls asleep before he can.

Sugawara follows.   


	30. what i wrote

_ I love you  _ is often left unsaid in small, comfortable silences: when somebody brings home breakfast after a long night, in between kisses and more, and when they’re on the couch together, huddled up and hidden under blankets.

_ I love you  _ isn’t said—or rather, isn’t spoken—often, but it’s expressed in ways unique to Daichi and Sugawara.

Mornings suck. If Daichi isn’t a morning person, then Sugawara definitely isn't, but they wake up early on a Sunday morning, golden sunrise flooding into their bedroom (which, previously, had been just Sugawara’s), and saturating the walls. Nobody speaks, and nobody needs to.

Daichi feels cold hands—or rather, cold fingertips—at his back, but he doesn’t jolt. This is commonplace; Sugawara wakes up and eases into it by tracing on Daichi’s back. Sometimes, he connects freckles and moles, sometimes draws, sometimes writes.

Though he intends to speak, to say  _ good morning _ , Daichi hasn’t been awake long enough to make proper use of his voice, so he makes a small, content noise in the back of his throat.

Sugawara sighs, loops his index finger and then makes a horseshoe shape before pulling his hand away, apparently satisfied with his work. Daichi definitely has an idea of what he says, and after he’s turned to face Sugawara, breaths mingling, he asks, “Was it  _ I love you _ ?”

“It was,” Sugawara agrees, stifling a yawn with a pillow. “It was I love you.”

“I could never forget it,” Daichi says quietly, because it’s completely and utterly true.

“I could never let you forget it,” Sugawara answers, drifting back into sleep.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's kind of bittersweet to be ending this series!! i've really enjoyed writing it and i've loved seeing all the familiar people in the comments. this is the kind of fic that leaves me feeling very warm, and i hope that that's the case for you, too.  
> thank you all for reading <3


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